


Don’t Do Drugs Kids

by byronsar



Category: Spider-Man: Homecoming (2017), The Avengers (Marvel Movies)
Genre: Asphyxiation, Flash is more than just a Dick, Hurt Peter Parker, Non-Consensual Drug Use, Peter Parker Needs a Hug, Peter and Ned are good buddies, Poor Peter Parker, Tony is getting grays
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-12-11
Updated: 2018-12-11
Packaged: 2019-09-16 01:12:11
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,928
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16944183
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/byronsar/pseuds/byronsar
Summary: And of course his senses began to tingle just as he slid his phone back into his pocket.He didn’t think much of it- why would he? He’d been dragged through this day like a rag doll, he’d be worried if his senses weren’t a little on the wonky side right now. All he needed was a nap, after going to Mr. Stark’s first of course, then he’d feel fine.-Or, Flash is more than just a dick, Tony gets more grays, and Peter is Asphyxiated





	Don’t Do Drugs Kids

It was a normal day for Peter, for the most part. He got three hours of sleep the night before, which was impressive, considering his eight hour school day and ten hour patrol that would usually take up the majority of his day as it was. He’d rushed to finish the stack of homework he’d neglected to do before he went out for the night, and only remembered it at around 3 in the morning, half an hour after he finally crawled into bed. When his alarm went off at the scheduled time of 5:45am, it took Peter nearly a minute to fully awaken enough to actually roll over and turn it of, and which, by that time, May had begun pounding on the wall so he could “Shut the damn thing off”, as she put it. By the time he’d rolled out of bed and grabbed the cleanest shirt he could find, which happened to be in the now looming pile of clothes threatening to overtake a corner of his room, it was nearly 6:30. He didn’t have time to eat breakfast, so he grabbed an apple from the fridge, waved goodbye to a half-asleep Aunt May, and was out the door. 

He turned the corner of his Chem class’s doorway just as the bell rang and managed to slide into his seat next to Ned before his teacher could notice his almost-tardy. It wasn’t that Peter was a gold star student when it came to attendance, but he’d been nearly-late so often that his reputation with his teachers was beginning to wane. The last thing he needed was another tardy on his transcript, as his odds for getting into MIT the next year would most surely decline.

An elbow pinched his side, and he turned to see Ned giving him a wary look. “You’ve been cutting it close for a while now, Peter. Aren’t you worried about you transcripts?” Ned whispered, voicing Peter’s own thoughts exactly.

“Yeah, but as long as I’m not actually tardy, it won’t matter.” He lowered his voice as his teacher gave him look. “It’s not like I’m trying to wake up late, I’ve just been… kinda busy lately.”

Ned’s gaze soften. “Yeah, I guess you’re right.” He coughed, then pulled out his Chem binder. “Well, at least you’re here to help me with these polysaccharides!” A sheet with dozens of glucose chains was slid over to him from Ned’s side of the table. “I know you weren’t here last week to learn them ‘cuz of your ‘Stark Internship Retreat’, but I was thinking that since you’re already working on Chemistry with your other project you’d-“

Ned has begun to talk a bit louder as he rambled, and his and Peter’s conversation began to attract the attention of someone else.

“What kind of other project are you working on, Penis?” Flash sneered from behind them. “Is it for the Stark Internship?”

Of course he had to sit near Flash. He always had to sit near Flash. 

Peter turned his head so his teacher wouldn’t notice him talking “As a matter of fact, Flash, it is, and It’s actually kind of confidential, so if you could-“

“Ooh, are you hiding something, Parker? You’re little project isn’t naughty is it?” Flash’s friends snickered. “Mr. Tony Stark isn’t paying you to cook him up something, is he? Or, better yet, are you making it for yourself?” 

Ned spoke up from beside Peter and said, bluntly, “He’s not making drugs Flash, if that’s what you’re insinuating.”

Flash shrugged, smirk still plastered across his face. “I don’t know, he has been almost late to class for a few weeks now, and has seemed a little buggy lately, but, I guess it takes one to know one, huh?”

He leaned back in his chair just has Peter’s chem teacher turned around to ask the class questions. Not before, however, a slip of paper slingshotted onto his desk. Written inside was, ‘Druggy, Buggy, Penis Parker’

-

No matter how hard Peter tried to avoid him, Flash managed to follow him around all day. In English, one of his friends shot half a Tylenol at the back of Peter’s head and it subsequently exploded, crusting the back of his neck with white powder. At lunch, Flash and his buddies sat at a table directly across from Ned and Peter and spent the whole half hour passing around a package of crushed smarties and pretending to sniff them. In Physics… well, Flash couldn’t come up with a way to make a ‘drug pun’ in that class, so he opted to just launch a projectile at Peter’s abdomen instead. 

By the end of the day, Peter was so worn out that when the last bell rang, he didn’t even bother rushing out of the school to get a head start on his patrols. He trudged out of 8th period Calc, took about twenty minutes to navigate the crowded halls to get down to his 1st floor locker, and spent another half hour cleaning out said locker of dozens of paper slips calling him ‘white powder Parker’.

By the time the last slip was thrown away, the halls were empty, and the only sounds were from the nearby tutoring classrooms and the occasional footsteps of another lingering student. 

Peter’s phone pinged from his back pocket. He ignored the large 4:00pm on his home screen and instead saw a text from Mr. Stark.

New suit upgrade. Come try it out?

He sighed. At this point in the day, Peter was just hoping to go home and crawl into bed so this day could be over. But if Mr. Stark wanted him to come over, then he’d come over.

He replied, sure! Be over in 15.  
And of course his senses began to tingle just as he slid his phone back into his pocket. 

He didn’t think much of it- why would he? He’d been dragged through this day like a rag doll, he’d be worried if his senses weren’t a little on the wonky side right now. All he needed was a nap, after going to Mr. Stark’s first of course, then he’d feel fine.

His senses didn’t become much of a problem until he got about halfway down the hall, when the faint tickle in the back of his neck became a throbbing headache in which he almost had to lean against a wall for support. He was barely able to think something is really wrong before something hard and heavy collided with the back of his head, stunning him for a second, and he was yanked in the nearest supply closest.

There was only darkness, and the faint smell of hard cologne, and he was lost.

He felt the weight of concrete crushing his chest, blood dripping down the side of his face. His legs were crushed, somewhere. There was no sound other than the drip drip of water falling into a puddle a few inches from his face. In the reflection, he saw himself, face half masked. And he was alone.

He came back just in time to feel a hard clomp against his temple, and he blacked out for a second or two. His breaths were labored, and he couldn’t tell if what he was feeling was a punctured lung or a panic attack. One of his sleeves was partially ripped off, he knew that much. There was something tied around his eyes too, like a cloth or something, as if the darkness of the closet wasn’t enough. 

Someone shuffled to his left, then a firm hand was placed against his mouth. It seemed to be coated in… something wet? Peter struggled against the grip of the palm, but abruptly stopped when another hand found its way to his throat. He wheezed.

It occurred to him, at this point, that couldn’t feel his toes. Or his arms. Or much of anything anymore. His hearing was going out, and he used whatever energy he had left to thrash around, trying to hit at least something to show that he wasn’t going out without a fight. He managed to punch a jaw at some point, and he had kicked some body part low to the ground and heard something snap, but he couldn’t be sure if it was their bone or his. 

Finally, his energy left him, his eyes dropped shut, and his head lolled to the side. Though he could barely hear his own breathing, he did manage to hear a mourner if voices, and one slightly more decipherable than the others said: Have fun with these drugs, Parker.

-

By the time Peter woke up, his kidnappers were gone. The cloth had been taken off his face, and he could see that the closet he was in was smaller than he’d originally thought, and he wondered how more than one person would have fit in it at once.

The door was closed, and Peter hoped to God he wasn’t locked in. He’d already had one panic attack in the stupid closet, and he really didn’t want to have another.

He’d thought standing would be a good idea, for whatever reason, but when he managed to get to his feet, the world turned on its axis and he nearly took a nosedive. He caught himself on a shelf and hissed as something sliced across his hand. He felt beads of moisture fill his palm, but couldn’t see the wound properly in the near darkness. 

He ground his teeth and took a tentative step forward and, finding that he could, in fact, remain standing for more than five seconds, he reached for the door knob. Fortunately, whoever had shoved him in the closet to begin with was nice enough to leave the door unlocked, and Peter was thankful for the courtesy.

The hallway were barren, much like how they were earlier, except now there was a tint of grey casting shadows over the walls. Out of the windows, Peter saw a sunset creeping over the horizon. 

He pulled his phone from his pocket, the device mostly okay despite a few new cracks on the display. What he was really worried about was the time. 

“7:30?? Shit! I was supposed to meet up with Mr. Stark three hours ago!” He stepped out of closest and grasped the doorframe as a wave of dizziness cascaded over him. “Man, he’s gonna be so pissed.”

He slowly began making his way towards the nearest exit, but not even a few feet down the hall, his legs gave out beneath him. His knees collided with the tile and his torso was left momentarily suspended in the air before following suit. His head smacked against a locker, making a resonating clang through the hallway. There was blood on his pant legs now, and he couldn’t help but wonder how May was going to react to having to do so much laundry when he got home. 

Before he could completely pass out, he felt a buzzing from the watch Mr. Stark had gave him a few months ago. His eyes trailed down hazily and caught the text sent from his mentor. 

Hey, lost track of time and saw you were supposed to be here three hours ago? u coming or what?

Peter let out a soft chuckled, which came out as a wheeze instead, and lolled his head to his other shoulder. The taste of metal was scraped across his tongue now and he could hardly breathe. 

His watch buzzed again, and if Peter had had enough strength to turn his head, he would’ve seen a second text from Mr. Stark. 

Peter?

Peter licked his lips shakily, finding it suddenly hard to speak. It took him a few tries to get anything to come out above a groan, but finally he managed a faint “Ka-ren”. 

He was luckily Tony had given him the Spider-Man tech in the watch, or he would’ve had to “Hey, Siri” his way out of this one.

The watch made a pinging noise, followed by a “Hello, Peter. You seem to be in distress. Shall I call Mr. Stark?”

“Actually, Karen,” he paused to cough up a string of blood. “could you- uh, actually -cough- uh, press the panic button instead?”

His body had already shut itself off by the time Karen conformed his order.

-

The first time Peter woke up, he was still lying face up on the ground and he was still alone. He thought he might’ve been able to hear the faint sound of machinery in the distance, but he was so overtaken by a wave of nausea that he pushed it to the back of his mind. There was no energy left in him to turn himself on his side, and he was surprised he had even enough energy to wake up if the first place. So, when he vomited, he began to choke. The sick ran down the sides of his face and pooled at his neck, and had he not been so scared he would’ve been disgusted with himself. The sounds that came from his throat were nearly inhuman and they echoed throughout the hallways. 

Just as asphyxia took away his consciousness, someone turned him on his side.

-

The second time Peter woke up, it was mere seconds after his last passing out. He was coughing and his throat was on fire and someone was rubbing his back and speaking to him, but he couldn’t make out the words so he let the pain overtake him and he was out again.

-  
The third time Peter woke up, he wasn’t really awake. He was lying face up again, but he wasn’t choking and he wasn’t on the floor. He felt the soft texture of some kind of padding underneath him, there was a fresh supply of oxygen connected to his mouth and nose, and he was warm. His body neglected to move with his brain, but he could hear voice around him, this time clear and distinguishable.

“BP falling again, this dose isn’t working for him.”

“His heart rate’s way too fast. If it doesn’t slow down soon, he could go into cardiac arrest.”

“I can’t find a good vein, his are all screwy.”

“Pupils responsive, but slow.”

“Where’s all this blood coming from?”

Someone was running their fingers through his hair and his body unconsciously leaned into the touch. The fingers paused for a moment before continuing. A voice by his ear whispered “We’re almost there, we’re almost there Peter, you’re gonna be fine.” And by the tone of the voice, Peter couldn’t tell who the speaker was trying to reassure.

-

The fourth time Peter woke up, it was to a steady beeping beside him, along with the sound of someone quietly talking of the phone. His entire body was sore and he felt sick to his stomach, yet he felt considerably better than he had before. There was a bandage wrapped around his head and when he squeezed his left hand, he felt a similar wrapped around it too.There was an annoying pinch in the crook of his right arm, so he reached out to feel for it when a calloused hand stopped him from doing so. 

“It took so long for them to find a good spot that if the nurses find that IV out, they’re gonna murder at least one of us.”

Peter blinked his eyelids until his eyes had moderately adjusted to the already dimmed lights, and looked over to find a slightly disheveled looking Tony Stark seated next to his medbay bed. He wasn’t wearing one of his suits, instead going for a t shirt and old jeans, his hair was cowlicked, and his eyes were red-rimmed. 

Peter cleared his throat. “You loo’ a bit rough M’ Stark” he said, hoarsely.

A corner of his mouth tilted upward, then fell back down again. “You should see yourself, kid”.

There was a lull, then “Wha’ happened, Mr. Stark?”

Tony held eye contact with Peter for a moment before falling back into his chair and sighing anxiously, rubbing a hand across his face. “Kid… you nearly died.”

Peter let out a humorless chuckle. “I got that much straight, I think. I’m not sure I understand how I got to that point though.”

Mr. Stark coughed and thought a moment. “Well, for starters, I’d like to point out that you’ve been out for nearly two and a half days.”

Peter’s eyes bugged. “Two and a half days?”

“Well deserved, I suppose, with all you’ve been through.” He ran his fingers through his hair, pulling out a knot. “There were three boys, one of which I’m sure you probably have already guessed. We identified them from a camera in the hallway of your school. They basically chloroformed you, injected extremely high doses of heroin and PCP into your bloodstream- badly too, couldn’t stick a needle in a wall- you subsequently overdosed, and had you not pressed that panic button when you did, you would’ve died from asphyxia outside a janitor’s closet.”

Peter swallowed, wincing at the soreness in his throat. He coughed. “What happened to Flash and his friends?”

Mr. Stark’s mouth turned upward, “They won’t see life outside of a jail cell for a long, long time kid.”

Peter’s eyes widened and he looked down at his hands. A tear slipped from one of his eyes and he hastily wiped it away. “Thanks for always being there for me Mr. Stark.”

Tony sighed. “Anytime you need a ambulance, Pete, I’m a phone call away.”


End file.
